


In the Beginning

by orphan_account



Series: The Rules of Engagement [1]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Molestation, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Ratigan and Basil of Baker Street are two sides of the same coin in intellect, obsession and pride.  They need each other as they have  no other equals in the world, but their creeds cannot coexist.  When their situation comes to a violent head, something has to give.</p><p>In this story: Ratigan ponders over all the things the great Basil of Baker Street is.  Basil tries to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've finally stepped over the line and desecrated Disney. May Walt have mercy on my keyboard.
> 
> Some notes before beginning:  
> This story assumes that the Queen's Jubilee Caper never happened (which may be explained in another story). Also, as Basil's surname is never given, I've made it Bartholomew in honour of the other character voiced by Barrie Ingham in the film. I've also referenced Basil as having a minor dependency on cocaine, which Sherlock Holmes was noted to dilute and inject when he was feeling mentally unstimulated. I've tried to keep both Basil and Ratigan as close to In Character as possible, so at times their relationship is going to be a hell of a lot less than fluffy. Finally, each story in this collection will be a one-shot detailing different points in Ratigan and Basil's relationship.

Basil Bartholomew of Baker Street was many things.

 

He was a practical man, often blundering roughshod over emotions in his cut-throat, logical pursuits.  He was clever beyond reason (often too much so for his own good).  He was a gentleman of breeding and sophistication though it was occasionally abandoned in his wild fits of epiphany.  He was a consulting detective, the first of his kind among Mousedom and an intellect exceeding comparison.  He was possessed of a willful, determined nature which often proved the comfort and vexation in turn of all those who knew him.  These were the defining characteristics of the great Basil of Baker Street that the public at large had come to know (though not necessarily love in all cases) and such traits were inseparable from the man himself.

 

Of course, as in many things, this was only half the story.

 

Those who knew him altogether more 'intimately' knew that he was also a mouse with a singular, addictive personality.  He was as dogged as a hound at the throat of a fox in all things whether it was investigation or his private vices...and oh, what vices! Even his dear Mrs. Judson was unaware of how deep and worrying his fixations ran or of what form they took.  Indeed, it seemed that only one in all the world knew the true depth of his tainted needs.

 

One Padraic Ratigan.

 

He prided himself at all times in being the only creature in creation who knew Basil like the back of his paw.  How could he not, after all? He employed the underground peddlers who supplied the irascible detective with cocaine to feed one of his dirty little habits, but not even those low-lifes knew with whom they dealt.  Basil's disguises were impeccable to all but Ratigan himself.  To the greatest criminal mind in all London, however? He was nearly as transparent as a pub window.  He tracked his business and inventory obsessively and noted a marked rise in sales when he wasn't running a caper (in other words, when Basil's case load was at its lowest and least stimulating) and always in the area he knew the detective to slink off to.

 

He would have known all about his opponent's drug consumption even if he hadn't observed him using it in person.  He would have known if he hadn't brought it to him personally on one or two occasions.  This, of course, reminded him of what may have been Basil's greatest sin (not that he could forget).  You see, the mouse simply could not bear stagnation of any sort.  He believed it atrophied the mind and body and it terrified him beyond reason so he strove to do anything to keep himself on his proverbial toes.  This manifested in cigarettes, in drug injections and, in recent years, energetic tumbles in Ratigan's bed.  That last one was, without a doubt, the criminal mastermind's favourite even if it did come with certain limitations.

 

Understanding this requires us to look back to the early years of their rivalry.

 

Their relationship, in those early times, had been comprised mainly of fierce combat and competition.  Ratigan would pull off the most daring crime only for Basil to thwart him at the finish line.  Ratigan would then fume and lick his wounds until the next time, carefully analyzing his opponent.  He would wait until pride and success distracted his nemesis then strike so swiftly and brilliantly that it would leave the detective snarling and raging at his own failure.  They were always evenly matched, just never at the same time.  They would chase and strike at each other, boiling ever hotter in their desire to best the other until it all inevitably came to a head.  They would fight each other bloody then, in an explosion of pent up rage and frustration.  Even this ended in a stalemate (but only after enough steam had been blown off to avoid killing one another).

 

Then, they retreated to their corners and the dance would begin again.

 

They learned each other's habits so intimately that they became like two halves of a whole and no other but themselves existed as the other's equal.  It presented an interesting conundrum for the both of them.  Basil wanted, nay needed, Ratigan's criminal activities to cease...or at least to stop escalating (for, despite his flaws, he was still a mouse of honour and justice).  On the other side of things, Ratigan was only too aware that his continued success could only be achieved by his opponent's death.  They were neither of them men to deny the truth of things.  It simply wasn't in their nature.  They were, however, dab hands at manipulating circumstances in their favour.

 

Something had to give.

 

Things finally did give at the completion of Ratigan's now-infamous Tower Bridge Job and in a spectacular way.  Basil had very nearly knee-capped the whole venture at the eleventh hour, smugly assured of victory until it was wrenched from his slim paws.  Unfortunately for him, victory HAD been torn from him by the big rat's last-minute machinations, leaving both of them furious and running high on adrenaline.  Padriac was only too aware of just how close he'd come to failure and it enraged him...and Basil HAD failed, driving him to the heights of fury.  Neither of them were thinking straight anymore when they tangled in an alley after the fact, nearly murdering one another in the process.

 

It had, of course, ended rather differently than it had started and their mutual obsession took on an altogether more lurid tone.

 

After that collision, they both retreated for perhaps their longest hiatus yet.  There was much to consider.  They waited, seeing who would be the one to make the first move in this new game they were playing.  Basil was the quietest of all, not even allowing himself to be seen outside of his Baker Street lodgings.  For a time, Ratigan even feared that he'd broken his only worthy adversary when the lathe-thin detective had ended up beneath him in the filth of that back alley.  After all, drug use or not, allowing oneself to be dominated by another male was a level of depravity to which even the well-bred mouse would not willingly stoop.

 

Imagine then his surprise when that same detective insinuated himself into the criminal's private chambers with what they now called their 'Rules of Engagement'.

 

Ratigan should have remembered that Basil was infinitely practical and not a mouse in the habit of denying himself his obsessions.

 

He could recall that fateful meeting with the clarity of a church bell on a clear morning.

 

~~~

 

_The broad-shouldered gray rat returned to one of his more private lodgings away from the pack of scum with which he chose to surround himself after doing the rounds of his lowlife 'kingdom'.  He needed privacy to think...had needed it more and more lately as that infuriating detective's silence stretched on without cease.  He had never considered how utterly mind-numbing his days would become without the rigorous mental exercise it required to think his way around Basil of Baker Street.  Was this how common folk felt? How did they endure the unending beige of boredom?_

_The room, hidden away in a forgotten cell beneath a church long-abandoned, was bathed in shadow and darkness as he entered, tugging off his gloves and unhooking his black cape from about his thick neck.  There was a candle by the bed, yet unlit, but waiting.  His mind was too busy to sleep, but with nothing for it to do, what else was there to do? Ratigan had already seen to everything that needed seeing to in his empire and it was so routine he was sure he could have done it with his eyes closed._

_It was only years of instinct that had his hackles rising before the candle burst to life with a hiss and the smell of sulfur._

_Ratigan turned quickly, drawing himself up to his full imposing height and unsheathing his claws to greet his intruder.  Who dared to impose upon him in such a way? He was in no mood._

_Yet there, seated in a chair by the bed with an artfully indolent curve to his spine was the very cause of his recent anxiety.  Basil watched him with fever-bright emerald eyes, pupils blown in the low light and his fur shining the colour of caramel in the candle's flickering glow.  He was dressed simply in a white oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up like a surgeon's, brown waistcoat and trousers...not even a tie or hat to be seen.  He seemed almost disheveled._

_Thinking to cover his surprise, Ratigan sought to needle at his nemesis, drawling in his cultured, nasal way, "Why Basil, appearing unescorted in my private rooms without even a coat? What impropriety!"_

_The mouse made a soft sing-song note in the back of his throat and withdrew a cigarette from his waistcoat pocket, lighting it in the candle's flame, "I should think impropriety was no stranger to us, Padraic."_

_Ratigan watched as Basil took a slow draw from his cigarette, the smoke making lazy mobius spirals in the air, "I don't recall giving you permission to address me by my Christian name, detective."_

_"When one becomes as savagely familiar with my flesh as you have, I consider that permission enough," replied the quick-witted mouse._

_The gray rat watched him with a predator's eyes, calculating everything about his encounter and doggedly trying not to focus too much on his prey's exposed, slender forearms.  He catalogued every minor change in his opponent that had appeared during their hiatus.  He noted that Basil seemed to have lost a bit of weight, a troubling detail on his already slim frame.  He noted also the exhaustion that lingered around those haunting eyes, the slight tremor of the left hand and the almost invisible inconsistencies in his fur where fresh scars were likely healing from their last encounter.  It all presented the picture of a man driven nigh unto the edge._

_He sneered, "And is that why you've been hiding away, detective? Shamed by that fleeting familiarity?"_

_Ratigan stalked closer, desperate to take control of this peculiar situation, "Or perhaps not, as you place yourself at the mercy of your abuser in the privacy of his own rooms.  You are aware of how far you are from aid should I choose to become familiar again?"_

_Basil didn't budge from his seat, "Hardly hiding.  Hard at work, more like."_

_"Do elucidate," Ratigan purred, standing over the mouse in front of him as if to remind him how easily he could break him in half in such small quarters._

_He was unprepared when those striking emerald eyes locked with his, filled with an almost unholy determination, "You and I have reached an impasse, old thing.  If you are even half the mind that I am which, I shall not insult you at this juncture, you are, then I know you are as loathe to be rid of me as I am of you.  However, we are in direct opposition as we are now...you a force of anarchy and I a man of the law.  With the facts as they are, some negotiation was in order."_

_"Foolish brat, what makes you think for even an instant that I could not endure without you scrabbling under my feet like an errant child!?" Struck by just how near to the truth the detective had come, Ratigan lashed out, wrapping a hand around the other's lapels and pulling him up._

_He noticed a minute hitch in Basil's breath, but his face remained otherwise nonplussed, "Have you not been as silent as I? Do you not hide from your fawning followers? Admit it, Ratigan, you are bored without my 'scrabbling beneath your feet' as I am bored without your mind to test me."_

_Suspicious, but intrigued, the towering rat drew him closer, but inquired all the same, "And what of our little tryst then, pet?"_

_Basil's mouth quirked into a bitter smirk, "It was certainly a game-changer, old sport."_

_Snorting, Ratigan casually discarded Basil on the bed, watching him with luminous yellow eyes, "If that is what you believe, then what do you suggest?"_

_"Rules of engagement," the mouse said, sitting up and trying not to seem as vulnerable as he looked, "A contract of compromises we must both make in order to coexist without completely surrendering our natures."_

_"I do not compromise with anyone!" Raged Ratigan, incensed by the mere presumption._

_"Then I fear you or I must die in this chamber tonight for there is no other logical conclusion to our stand-off.  We have, the both of us reached a point where we must either negotiate co-existence or cease to exist together."_

_Basil's words rather took the wind out of Ratigan's prodigious rage, but he snarled in frustration all the same, "Then speak and be done with it!"_

_Basil tried to stand then, but was pushed back to the bed with an order of, "You can stay right there while you speak, detective.  I rather enjoy the view."_

_Sighing, the slim mouse acquiesced, "The rules, then, are quite simple.  I shall not pursue you or seek to imprison you provided that you commit no crimes that threaten the lives of others or the liberty of the poor folk."_

_Ratigan could practically feel the cobwebs lifting from his brain as he pondered the offer.  He would still have the freedom to plot some of the most dazzling capers Mousedom had ever seen...and he could do it without the intrusion of Basil.  Yes, his options were limited and that rankled him in some primal, arrogant, dominant part of his soul, but he had to also consider the possibilities.  Still, it wasn't enough.  It left him too far removed from the challenges his opponent's brilliant mind presented.  His intellect required more exercise than that and if he was going to agree, he needed an addendum._

_Looming like a great shadow over the other, he placed his un-gloved hands on either side of the detective's head, "I will only agree on one condition, Basil."_

_"Speak," the other ordered._

_One of Ratigan's powerful paws cupped the velvety fur of the smaller man's cheek, "If I am going to limit my activities, I require a consolation.  You.  You become mine exclusively."_

_Basil balked, trying to twist his face away._

_The larger man wouldn't let him, "Remember, Basil, that you sought ME out.  YOU confess that we either exist together or not at all.  Do not even try to deceive me.  I know only too well your arrogance and your utter hatred of failure.  Even if you do not, in some depraved corner of your soul, desire me, you will sacrifice anything to succeed.  You WILL agree to my terms whether out of lust or pride.  Which deadly sin is it, precious? It matters not to me."_

_For a single, breathless moment there was a hardness in Basil's eyes as if he would refuse...as if this was too much even for him.  His narrow shoulders were tight and Ratigan could feel his heart thundering away in his thin chest.  Then, all at once, like a spring releasing, Basil sank back against the bed and nodded.  The deal was struck._

_The bed had been quite broken by the next day._

 

~~~

 

That had been years ago and, aside from the frustration that came of being limited, the two had co-existed secretly as either side of a twisted coin.  Not even Ratigan's closest associates knew of his relationship with the detective and both had been able to continue growing in prominence alongside one another without their paths crossing too obviously.  Bless his Basil's cunning, wicked little mind for that contract.  If not for that grace, one or both of them would have died long ago.

 

A slight weight across his powerful back drew Ratigan out of his early morning ruminations, the sensation of silky, sand-coloured fur dragging across the expansive muscles there distracting him.  He made a curious sound and looked over his shoulder to find Basil, bare as the day he was born, draped over his shoulders like a dilatory cat.  He smelled of tobacco and sleep, still warm and malleable from the mattress and disturbed dreams.

 

"I can hear you thinking, Padraic.  Do give yourself a rest," the mouse hummed, his normally precise RP slumber-roughened.

 

Basil could feel his lover's baritone chuckle all the way in his own chest as Ratigan teased, "Even though I am thinking of you, dearest? I would have thought you'd be flattered."

 

"You are truly incorrigible sometimes.  Come now, rest.  I know you've something planned for tomorrow," Basil reprimanded, tugging at his ear.

 

Ratigan really should have figured that Basil would have known he had a caper planned.  They had long ago made it a rule never to discuss work to keep the peace and avoid arguments, but both of them were too clever to remain completely in the dark.  The large rat sighed and rolled, dumping his smaller lover back on the mattress and curling possessively around him, nearly dwarfing him.  He bit at the back of that slender neck in a casual bid for dominance, quieting Basil down.

 

"Yes, dear.  Hush now, you need your rest as well if I'm to send you off to Baker Street early tomorrow."

 

He couldn't help a chuckle even as his mate grumbled and got comfortable again, "And darling? I am ALWAYS incorrigible."


End file.
